


On The Dance Floor

by fairy911911



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Ballroom Dancing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy911911/pseuds/fairy911911
Summary: Dean Winchester does not dance.It’s not like he can’t or anything. He could probably figure something out eventually – if he wanted to. It’s just that he doesn’t. At all. There’s a lot of multi-tasking involved. So much could go wrong so quickly, and Dean was not about to be made a fool of in front of an audience. Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if this were at a small thing with close friends, but this was much bigger and much worse – Jess and Sam’s wedding reception.Written as part of the 2016 DeanCas Secret Santa for michele659 with the prompt:AU where Dean has to learn to dance for Sam's wedding and Cas is his instructor. Lots of sexual tension and typical rom com complications ensue,leading to a happy ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [michele659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/michele659/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy the story and have a great new year.

Dean Winchester does not dance.

It’s not like he can’t or anything. He could probably figure something out eventually – if he wanted to. It’s just that he doesn’t. At all.

There’s a lot of multi-tasking involved, with thinking about the arms and legs and head, and Sam even mentioned something about sucking in your core which he doesn’t even know what that’s supposed to be referring to. And then you have to add on the extra difficulty of working with another person, which only increases the possibility of disaster by ten-fold. And yeah, that’s the whole problem. So much could go wrong so quickly, and Dean was not about to be made a fool of in front of an audience.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if this were at a small thing with close friends, like Benny and Jo. Okay, yeah, they would make fun of him, but it would all be in good fun and everyone would move past it after a few hours. But this was much bigger and much worse – Jess and Sam’s wedding reception.

The couple in question were currently staring Dean down, eyebrows raised in question, as he blankly gaped back at them. Like they could expect any other reaction. Signing him up for their private dance lessons for the wedding. Who does that? Ballroom dancing in front of all the guests was never part of the deal for the best man.

“Umm, Dean?” Sam asked after the painfully awkward silence went on for just too long. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t wanna dance.”

“Dean, it’s tradition,” Jess replied.

“To dance with you?”

“Yes,” Jess nodded. “After the first dance the best man dances with the bride and the maid of honor dances with the groom. Then we switch. Simple.”

For them, maybe, but he could just see himself royally fucking up, and not only would this let down his baby bro and the best woman he knew, but probably ruin the whole reception as well. And this was going to be recorded on film and saved for the rest of his life. One mistake and the clip would be spread on the Internet and brought up year after year to torture him.

Dean could handle planning a lot of the wedding. But that’s as far as he wanted to go. He was a backstage kinda guy, not a performer. It was best for everyone that it stayed that way. Why did Jess and Sam want to ruin that perfectly acceptable balance?

“What if I got someone else to take my place?” he offered. “I’m sure Garth would be happy to dance with you.”

“Garth isn’t the first man.” Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

“It wouldn’t be a big deal if you just let someone else do it.”

_“Dean.”_

“Look, this is clearly important to you guys. I don’t wanna be the reason it gets fucked up.”

Jess took a step towards him. “Why would that happen?”

“Because I don’t know ballroom?”

“Dean, seriously?” Sam asked deadpan.

“What? I don’t want to hurt Jess or myself by accident cause I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do Jess or I. That’s why we’re taking lessons from a professional.”

“Yeah, five lessons.”

“That should be plenty.”

Memories of secret late night binges of _Dancing with the Stars_ flash before his eyes. Knowing how most couples do in the first few weeks, after training every day, there’s very little hope. At least Jess used to do dance in high school, and despite Sam’s moose status he can pick things up pretty quickly. Dean, however, was a goner.

“I really don’t know about this, guys…”

“Dean.” Jess gently placed her outreached hand on his shoulder. “If you really don’t want to do this, then Sam and I won’t force you and we can find someone else. But,” she added with a small sigh, “we’d really like to have our best man with us on the dance floor for support. And I’d really love to have a dance with my brother-in-law.”

“Besides,” Sam added from behind Jess, “we’re all in the same boat. None of us know what were doing, and it could be fun to figure it out together.”

“And Charlie will be there as well, so if you get sick of us you can complain to her,” Jess smiled.

As a kid Dean could hardly stand the puppy-eyed looks Sam would give him when he desperately wanted something. And now he was faced with double the torture. Both Jess and Sam were putting on their best performances, with big, pleading eyes and small, hopeful smiles. It was all too much.

“Fine,” he groaned. Jess let out a small cheer and tackled him in a hug. “I’ll go to the stupid class. But I hope you’re not expecting me to get much outta this.”

“We’re not,” Sam answered, and was quickly met with a severe glare from Dean. “Hey, I just mean we get it. And… thanks.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just lucky I’m the best brother in the world.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean.” But there was a smile on both of their faces.

“The class is Saturday afternoon at two,” Jess said. She fished her phone out of the purse sitting on the coffee table and started typing. “I’m texting you the address. Please, don’t be late.”

“Like I’m ever late,” Dean he huffed. But when the text dropped in with a hushed _ping_ he made sure to memorize the location. Just because he didn’t want to do this doesn’t mean he’s going to ruin it for Sam and Jess. He was just gonna have to make this work.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Of fucking course there was traffic. The first session started 2 minutes ago and Dean was still a seven blocks away from the studio. Great. Just peachy.

His phone _pinged_ with the all to familiar text tone. No doubt Sam wondering where the hell he was. His right hand instinctively went up to massage his temples as he waited at the fifth red light he’d hit in a row. It would be a miracle if he got to the lesson without dying from a traffic jam-induced aneurism or the migraine now forming behind his left eye.

He really wasn’t trying to be late; in fact, he had made sure to set three alarms on his phone just to make sure he got out of work on time. Dean’s opinion on the dance lessons hadn’t changed, in that he still abhorred the idea of having his awful dancing caught on camera and five lessons wouldn’t help the situation at all, but he owed it to Sam and Jess not to be an asshole about it. And showing up late was the biggest asshole move. It’s just that the last client at the shop kept asking questions and Benny was late showing up to take over his shift, and every time the alarm went off on his phone Dean could feel his blood pressure spiking.

The light eventually turned green and Dean sped through the intersection. He was probably pulling forty in a twenty-five zone, but he just prayed a cop wasn’t near by and everyone else would just keep out of his way.

Finally, he pulled up in front of an aging, one story building on the corner of what seemed to be an old residential area. The grey paint – the same color as the sidewalk concrete – was chipping and pealing. The view from the windows on the corner that should have overlooked the street was obstructed by white curtains and the star-shaped logo of the studio painted on the glass: _Heaven on Earth, Dance Academy._ Dean rushed to the inconspicuous black door on the side of the studio, again with the logo on display, but this time a sliver smiley face was graffitied on top of the star.

Inside was a semi-cramped waiting room consisting of a fading carpet Dean swore was at least twenty years old, a water fountain next to two bathrooms, a front desk tucked into a corner beside the door to the main room, and an assortment of mismatching chairs. In these chairs, currently, were Sam, Jess, and Charlie.

“There was traffic and I couldn’t get off of my shift,” he blurted out breathlessly.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a deep, gravely voice coming from his left. “No worries. My last class just finished up.”

Dean turned to apologize again to the man behind the voice, but when he actually got sight of the guy his own voice caught in his throat. His face and lips were flushed and his wild, dark hair was threatening to fall over his eyes. His eyes: they were a shade of blue Dean had never seen before and seemed to stare right into his soul. Dean couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move.

The man decided to make his way towards Dean, extending his arm out for a handshake. It took Dean’s brain longer than necessary to catch up to action and return the gesture. What was wrong with him?

“Castiel Novak. I own the studio and will be your instructor. Are you the groom?”

Dean let out a chuckle at the ridiculousness of him being the one to get married, but he could get his mouth to actually make any words. Luckily, Sam stood up behind him to step in.

“Um… no, I am, and this is my fiancé, Jessica.”

“Call me Jess,” she added, giving a tiny wave.

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and moved onto the couple. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Charlie, the maid of honor,” Charlie greeted cheerily, “and the guy currently staring at you like an idiot is Dean.”

“Hey!”

“He’s the best man,” she continued. Charlie pulled Castiel in a little closer to stage whisper. “You’ll get used to him soon enough.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s nice to meet you all, but I think it’s time to get started. Don’t you agree?” Everyone but Dean hummed in agreement. “You can follow me.”

Castiel lead them inside the main studio, which probably took up more than half the building. Where as the rest of the place seemed to be on its last legs, this room was bright with cream-colored walls and lots of light. The wooden floor was scratched in places, but in the way you could tell it was well loved.

“Sam and Jess, you wanted your first dance to be to _Marry Me_ by Train, and you’ve selected Adele’s _One and Only_ for the group dance, correct?” They nodded. “And does anyone have any ballroom experience?” They all remained quiet. Castiel shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s perfectly normal to come into this process without training. Let’s start by pairing off.”

Dean reached for Charlie and awkwardly put his arms around her. God, this was awful, like he was back at a middle school dance or something. And as the next two hours progressed, Dean was made to feel worse and worse at this. It seemed like every move he made was the wrong one. Castiel had to continuously come around to adjust him.

And the worst part was Dean secretly didn’t mind that. While he was definitely self conscious, every time Castiel’s hands altered his poster or limb placement a little chill ran down his spin. Dean just prayed the redness in his face could be blamed on how hard he was working.

And what made it worse was how _nice_ Castiel was about it. He was never frustrated by Dean’s, or anyone’s, mistakes and seemed genuinely pleased when they got something right. The man was hot, athletic, and kind. God damn it.

When the session finally ended, Dean’s limbs were sore and he was sure he botched the entirety of what they had learned that day, but, shockingly, he was looking forward to the next lesson. Hell, he was a bit excited. He just could never admit that.

“Bye, Cas,” he waved on his way out, only realizing after the fact that he’d called Castiel ‘Cas’ by mistake. But the man only smiled and wished him a good week.

Charlie was waiting for him outside, with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

‘What?” he asked.

“Is there something going on between you and Castiel?”

“W-what?” he sputtered. “No, what are you talking about?”

“You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Don’t you say I’m always weird?”

“Weirder than usual. Awkward. Like when you meet a cute guy for the first time and try to flirt.”

“I was not flirting,” he insisted.

“Okay, Dean,” Charlie teased, “just try not to fall in love with our instructor.”

“I’m not in love with him.”

Charlie just smirked at his retort. “Whatever you say, Dean.” She held up a peace sign and headed in the direction of her car. Dean just rolled his eyes. Charlie didn’t know what she was talking about. He and Cas were nothing more than student and teacher, and he was _not_ going to fall in love with him.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Why was he always late? Last class and late for the fifth time in a row.

Dean was pulling up to Heaven on Earth just at two after rushing from work. His phone had died without his knowledge, which meant none of his alarms went off. Dean didn’t even realize it was twenty minutes to until Garth found him working under one of the cars and asked why he hadn’t left yet. By some miracle he’d made it across town in enough time.

He just prayed Cas didn’t hold his chronic tardiness against him. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but Dean actually cared about what Cas thought of him. Sure, Cas was a nice guy and, technically, his teacher, but Dean had never really given a shit if some one had liked him or not. There was something about Cas, though, that makes Dean want to impress him. And it absolutely boggled his mind.

Dean made the executive decision not to run into the building and have Cas catch him out of breath. But he when he entered he found the lobby dark and empty. The only sound was instrumental music that seemed to come from the main studio. With interest piqued, Dean quietly made his way into the studio to find Cas dancing his heart out alone in the center.

Dean had never seen anything so beautiful. Until now his perception of Cas had been one of a strict ballroom dancer obsessed with lines and form. But now all of that had melted away. His body glided through the air as if it were weightless, but still with the power and strength behind it to push himself from one side of the room to the other. His limbs drew circles and curves around him, as if Cas were tracing an unseen pattern cocooning himself. Every movement stretched him to the limit of possibility and energy, and yet Cas kept going. A glide, a leap; arabesque, fondu, back to relevé. He prepared for a pirouette: one, two, three turns. Dean lost count. Finally he ended with a perfect landing – right in front of Dean.

Cas stared back at him, eyes widened in surprise and chest heaving from exertion. “Dean,” he let out breathlessly. His body compressed itself back into the tight, upright stance of before. He fished a small remote from his sweatpants pocket, and with a click the stereo stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“We have class, right?” he asked, but even then Dean wasn’t sure. The building was dark and they seemed to be the only ones in it.

“Sam called me earlier today, cancelling. Jess is sick and wouldn’t be able to do much. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Maybe. My phone’s dead.”

Cas nodded. “Well, if you’d practice, I’d be happy to have a short private lesson with you. However, you’re actually in fairly good shape.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Dean, you’re a quite good dancer. I wouldn’t be worried about the wedding.”

Cas’s words shook him to the core. He while he knew his first class went horribly, he would be in denial to say he hadn’t gotten a bit better over the past month. But Dean wasn’t expecting any sort of praise from Cas. He could feel his cheeks growing warm at the compliment.

“Have you been here all day?” He tried to change the subject.

“Yes. Truth be told this was going to be my lunch break.”

Dean mental kicked himself for wanting to waste Cas’s time, but the selfish part of him still wanted to see Cas. This was the last class, after all. “Could I run it through once, and then maybe we could go get some food? As…friends?” He prayed for luck and that Cas wouldn’t take the offer the wrong way.

Cas’s eyes widened slightly. In surprise, maybe? “Of course,” he answered, simply. Cas out-stretched his arm towards Dean.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“You’re going to need a partner.”

If Dean’s cheeks were pink before, they now were surely flaming red. Sheepishly, he made his way towards the middle of the dance floor. He gingerly put his hand around Cas’s waist and brought him in at a reasonable amount, which Cas immediately corrected to be even closer. They were practically chest to chest, and Dean was hyperaware of the differences between partnering with Cas and the girls. Although he was thankfully shorter than Dean, Cas still had a few inches on both Charlie and Jess. His grip on Dean’s shoulder was stronger and more weighted, like he wasn’t simply placing his hand there just for technique sake, but actually trying to make a connection.

Cas must have felt Dean’s nerves, from both performing for and with him. He gave Dean’s hand a small squeeze. “You know this,” he murmured to Dean, a grin growing on his face. “Trust yourself.” And with that, Cas pushed the start button on his remote, and the introduction to _One and Only_ began.

The song was only five minutes or so, but dancing with Cas felt like an eternity he never wanted to end. Every touch, every step, was in perfect harmony. Even their breaths were on the same beat. Letting go when it came time to switch partners felt to Dean like he lost a small part of himself, but Cas’s returning touch soothed the separation. As one unit they spun their way around the studio floor. And never once did Dean’s eyes leave Cas’s gaze. It wasn’t until they came to the last move, a slow turn around themselves with hands resting at the base of the others neck, that Dean even realized the song was fading to silence. Both took in the same breath, and neither moved.

It was Cas that finally pulled away, his hands brushing against Dean’s skin before leaving. Dean was painfully aware of his absence.

“You’re ready,” Cas smiled, but there was something about his gaze that looked bittersweet. Dean didn’t dare hope it meant more than what met the eye.

“It’s all thanks to you,” Dean returned.

Cas shook his head. “I can only teach so much, Dean. You really have a gift for musicality.”

Dean let out a small laugh as he could feel another round of heat on his cheeks. “How about we get that lunch,” he quickly changed the subject.

“I know a burger place a few blocks away.”

“I could go for one of those right now.”

“Perfect.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Cas told him he’d meet Dean at the burger joint after locking up. _Chuck’s_ , as it was called, was only a short few minutes walk away past the corner store across the street and construction of some kind down the block. Inside the dinner appeared to be Dean’s paradise, with cushy booths, low lighting (even in the middle of the afternoon), and classic rock matching the classic memorabilia on the walls. It wasn’t long before Cas walked through the door, this time swapping out his usual sweats and tee for slacks and an oversized trench coat.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Dean said with a smile as Cas scooted in to the opposite side of the booth, “I didn’t take you as a trench coat kinda guy.”

Cas shrugged. “I’ve had it for years and never really had a reason to change it.”

“Well it looks good on you.” The moment the statement left Dean’s lips he knew it was a mistake. It was way too forward, and Cas didn’t seem to know how to react to the compliment.

“Is that construction down the street?” he asked, hoping the obvious question would steer the conversation away from disaster.

“Yes.”

“How long’ve they been working on it?”

“A few months, now.”

“I guess that can get pretty loud.”

“Yes. Horribly.”

Cas’s voice had gotten a bit tighter and stiff. Dean only had a moment to wonder why before a waiter came by to take their order: two bacon cheeseburgers with fries. When the waiter left Dean noticed Cas squinting at him.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me strangely.”

“I just expected you to order a salad or some rabbit food like that. I mean, I live on this junk, but I thought dancers had to watch what they eat?”

“Yes, theoretically, but I also have to intake an above average amount of calories.” He shrugged off his coat to reveal a fitted button down that, pathetically, pulled Dean’s gaze away from Cas’s face. “Having a burger every now and again isn’t going to hurt me.” He smiled softly. “Which is good because these make me very happy.”

“So, what, I have to dance how many hours a day before going to places like this starts working in my favor?”

“About eight.”

Dean nearly spit out his drink. “Dude, seriously?”

“It’s a full time job.”

“And you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Well, if it’s worth while…” Dean trailed off.

“What do you do, Dean?”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m a mechanic.” He couldn’t see Cas’s reaction, but he hoped it at least semi-positive.

“Really? That sounds fascinating.”

Dean met Cas’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Of course I do. Being able to heal and create with you hands is amazing. I wish I could do that.” Cas paused for a moment. “Did you expect me react badly?”

“Not you, personally, but when most people find out I work on cars for a living, especially if they knew me as ‘Sam Winchester: Attorney’s’ brother,” he gave a non-committal shrug, “I often get pity or, worse, distain.” He dropped his gaze.” I don’t care that my job doesn’t make a lot or that I got it without a college degree; fixing old cars was what I love to do.” He looked back at Cas. “I just hate it when others can’t see it that way.”

Cas reached his had out to lay it softly on Dean’s folded ones. “Dean, I dance professionally for a living. I’m not in the position to judge most anyone on their chosen career. And besides, I think what you do is both brilliant and honorable.” He looked down, almost for the first time noticing where his hand had moved. Cas pulled it back into his own lap. “Now, what’s your favorite car?”

That got Dean ranting on his own baby, which Cas had commented he’d seen from inside the studio and wondered if it was Dean’s. Which then led to Cas revealing he drove an old ’78 Lincoln Continental and then a long debate on whether Cas’s car was any good (Cas, for one, loved it, but Dean felt obligated to inform him his car was a piece of shit). They were so wrapped in their conversation they hardly noticed the food coming, which ultimately caused a cease-fire in favor of food.

“So,” Dean asked between mouthfuls of fries, “how long have you been dancing?”

“Since I was three, I think?”

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed.” Cas nodded. “My older sister, Hannah, was taking classes, well, over there, actually-“

“At _Heaven on Earth_?”

“Back then it was named _Naomi’s Dance Academy_ , but, yes, the same building. My mother would bring me along to her classes and as soon as I learned to walk I wanted to be part of the class. When she finally deemed my motor skills capable enough for toddler classes she signed me up. Hannah quit a few years later, but I eventually joined the competition circuit, first for stage and later ballroom.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “I can’t image dancing for that long.”

“Well, it’s discipline and hard work, but I love it.” Cas smiled softly, just to himself. “When I’m performing I feel like I’m flying.”

“How’d you get the studio?”

Dean instantly knew that wasn’t the right question. Something about Cas’s bodily language, something almost unnoticeable, shifted. He froze and became more ridged. Dean could see the tension in his clasped hands and around the corners of his mouth.

“After college and taking some time off of dancing, I came back home to find _Naomi’s_ on the verge of going under. I had some money of my own and offered to put it into it. Naomi and I only had enough to really make a change in the main studio, but we changed the name and got some better advertising. I took on more and more of the classes. Eventually, we turned it around. Naomi retired a few years ago, and I’ve been running _Heaven on Earth_ alone ever since.”

As a silence fell over them, Dean could tell there was something more, but he didn’t push. It wasn’t like Cas was obligated to tell him or anything. They barely knew each other, after all.

“So, what do you think of ‘Dancing with the Stars’?” he asked, desperate to alleviate the awkwardness.

Cas smiled at the offer of subject change. “Overall, I like it a lot. I’m a big fan of Derek Hough. I wouldn’t think you’d watch it, though.”

“Huh?”

"I know you weren’t keen on doing this, Dean.” His confusion must have been clear on his face because Cas continued on. “Sam had called me before the first class.” Cas slightly adjusted his position. “I just want to thank you for tolerating this.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked perhaps a bit to forcibly; Cas did look taken back. “Look, I didn’t want to do this, but it wasn’t about you, Buddy. And I’ve actually had fun. Just don’t tell Sam.”

Cas gave him a gummy smile. “You’re secret is safe with me. Thank you.”

And Dean couldn’t help but smile back. In an unbelievable way, it was almost a perfect moment, had Cas’s phone not gone off.

Cas apologized as he searched his coat for the phone. Dean couldn’t help but deflate a bit, mirroring Cas as he got a look at his screen.

“Unfortunately, I completely forgot I have a private lesson scheduled which I’m going to be late to. So I’m going to have to run. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged off Cas’s statement and his own disappointment. “It’s fine. I get it.” Cas reached for his wallet, but Dean stopped him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But, Dean –“

“I’ve got it. Least I could do for saving me from embarrassment.”

After a moment Cas sighed, put his wallet away, and slipped on his coat. “Fine, but I do owe you.”

“Just come to the wedding and we’ll have a deal.”

Dean knew he was taking a risk, but this might have been the last time he saw Cas, and there was something about that reality that just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was stupid and too forward; hell, he didn’t even know how Cas actually felt about him, much less his own feelings towards the man. But he had to give it a shot, and if Cas’s completely frozen stance and gaping mouth proved anything, it was that the statement made an impact.

“Dean, I’m not invited,” he said slowly.

“Sam and Jess would love to have you, and it’d be so easy to crash. Hell, you can be my plus one.” He only realized how that sounded until after it came out. He quickly added, “As friends, of course.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Cas. I’d really love it if you’d come.”

The seconds ticked by like an eternity, and Dean could only hold his breath in anticipation.

“I’ll be there.”

Dean barely held himself back from cheering in the middle of the restaurant. “Great. Once my phone’s not dead I’ll text you the information.”

Cas nodded. “Okay, but I do actually have to leave.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. You better – get going. Right. See ya.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

And with that Cas rushed through the door, and Dean had somehow asked Cas on a not-date to his brother’s wedding.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

A round of cheers rang out from the hall full of guests as Sam leaned in to kiss his now wife, Jessica. Dean couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread over his face. His baby brother was all grown up and married to the coolest woman on the planet. He couldn’t be more proud.

If only that feeling could last past him taking a glance at the ceremony hall. Although he had reserved a spot a few rows back on Sam’s side for him, Cas was nowhere to be seen. And, yeah, Cas wasn’t technically invited and had no real obligation to show up, but he’d promised, and Dean had honestly been ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Cas again. Not just as a dance instructor, but as a friend and maybe (hopefully) something more.

Soon enough Dean was whisked away into a flurry of liaising congratulations from guests and snapping photographs with the happy couple and the rest of groomsmen and bridesmaids. He barely got a moment to breathe until they got settled into the reception location and got some food into his stomach. Jess and Sam were off talking to other guests, leaving Dean and Charlie to sit in uncharacteristically awkward silence.

“Okay,” Charlie said eventually, putting down her utensils and adjusting her chair to directly face Dean. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You looked like you got dumped at the prom.”

“Charlie, stop it.”

“Dean-“

“Please!” he snapped. “Charlie, just stop.”

In the background the first notes to _Marry Me_ rang out across the venue, announcing Sam and Jess’s first dance. Dean kept his gaze firmly on his plate in front of him. He didn’t want to see the hurt on Charlie’s face.

“Does it have something to do with Castiel?”

A lump caught in the back of his throat. “Why would I care about him?”

“Because I saw how you two acted during rehearsals, and how obvious it was that you like him.” She took the risk to scoot closer to Dean. “Did something happen?”

“Not really,” he answered. “I just asked him if he’d come, he said he would, and he didn’t show up.”

“Dude…”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset.” She reached over to put her hand over his. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish I could fix this.”

“There’s not much you can do.”

She shrugged. “Well, I think Sam and Jess’s first dance is ending, so that mean’s it’s our turn. And after that, you never have to think about him again.”

Charlie stood up and held her hand out to him. “Would you give me the honor of this dance, fair Handmaiden?”

He half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I was only your handmaid for like one weekend. I’m a knight and you know that.”

“Yeah, but you’ll always be a handmaiden to me.” She gestured out to the dance floor. “Come on. It’s our time to shine.”

They reached the wooden platform just as Jess and Sam took their final pose for their first dance, leaning in for a kiss. As a round of applause surrounded them, Charlie and Dean made their way onto the dance floor to meet with their new partners. Dean reached for Jess’s hand.

“Are you sure you’re not going to run off, Dean?” she teased.

He knew it was a joke, but in his current state it rang a little to close to home. He put on what he hoped was a convincing smile. “You just want to get rid of me.”

“You saw right through me evil plan,” she shrugged and gave his hand a short squeeze. Dean relished in it. Even then, he could feel the stares of the other guests all pinned on him. Every camera and phone seemed to be out and pointed at them. At the corner of dance floor was the wedding photographer, positioned with the DSLR and waiting to record the next five minutes for all of history. There was no escape, and no room for error.

And with that the music began.

It wasn’t his best run; that had to be with Castiel at the studio the week before. And, unfortunately, his mind made him painfully aware of that fact. Jess and Charlie were good dancers, but they didn’t hold a candle to the way Cas moved. It just didn’t feel right. But Dean pushed on, making sure he hit every mark and made every move. It wasn’t fantastic, but thankfully there weren’t any huge disasters to hold against him.

The five minutes were over before he realized. People were cheering and Charlie had moved her hand down to his shoulder to give it a squeeze. “You did it, Handmaiden!” The numbness of his body dampened the sensation, but he gave Charlie a smile anyway. They had done it. _He_ did it.

“You were fantastic.”

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He didn’t even really believe his senses at first, but there Cas was, standing behind him in a tux, holding a glass of champagne, and absolutely beaming at him. Dean didn’t know what to say.

“But, Charlie, did you just call Dean ‘Handmaiden’?”

Charlie, a mix of both excited and also painfully aware of the situation’s tension, could only awkwardly chuckle. “Um, yeah. It’s a LARPing thing.”

“LARPing?”

“Live-action-role-play. I’m a queen. Dean used to be my handmaid. Now he’s a knight.” Charlie only paused to take a breath. “I’m going to get some food. You should ask Dean about it.” She mouthed _good luck_ as she turned past him and hurried away.

“That does sound fascinating. I love to hear –“

“Where were you?” Dean finally got out. He wanted it to sound harsher, but he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

Cas’s entire faced dropped. “What?”

“The wedding, the past few hours. Where have you been?”

“Dean, I couldn’t get into the ceremony, and it took forever to find the reception. I finally had to call Sam to ask.”

The statement floored Dean a bit. “You could have just waited outside the hall? Or called me? I could have let you in.”

“I know. I –“ Cas looked down at his hands. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want me to come.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean wanted to me mad, he still wanted to feel betrayed, but at that moment every bit of anger melted out of his body. “Well, at least you’re here now.”

The music started up again, a soft country tune that normally Dean would pretend to hate. Couples were already making there way onto to the dance floor. Cas set his champagne glass down on the table next to him. “Would you like this dance?”

The soft glow from the string lights almost made a halo around Cas’s head as he gently held his hand out, and for a moment Dean could swear he was an angel.

“Of course.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“So you’ve been doing this for five years?”

“The better part of it, yeah.”

“And you’ve never retained an injury?”

“Cas, LARPing isn’t real. Our weapons are foam and cardboard.”

Cas furrowed his brow and shrugged his shoulders, still managing to keep perfect form while dancing, of course. They’d been circling their little corner of the dance floor for what probably well over an hour. Dean didn’t know the time to tell, and he honestly couldn’t really care. Dancing with Cas – no pressure, no audience, just them swaying together – was heaven. Being with him felt easy and welcoming; being with Cas felt like home.

Dean wasn’t sure how they’d even gotten onto the subject of LARPing. Were they talking about Charlie before? Probably, but he couldn’t remember why and he honestly didn’t care.

“Still, I’ve never understood the appeal of mock war.”

“Well, it mixes acting with fantasy and strategy. And getting to whack a few guys in the head with a long swords is therapeutic.” Dean joked.

“I can’t say I agree.” Cas’s grip tensed beneath him. Dean tried to meet his gaze, but Cas was adamant in staring at the ground. He decided to back off.

“So, what are you going to do now that Sam and Jess don’t need your help?”

Cas relaxed slightly and looked back up at him. “I think I’m going to be fine without your business. There are always people in want of lessons, Dean. You and your family’s needs are not uncommon.”

“Are you saying I’m not special?”

“Yes.” Cas’s response was so deadpan that for a moment Dean wasn’t sure if Cas was serious or not. But the next moment Cas was showing off his gummy smile and Dean couldn’t help but match. Dean was sure he could never get enough of those smiles.

He sighed internally. It wasn’t lost on Dean that realistically this was still his last night to see Cas – he’d just been attempting to ignore it as the evening continued on. But the thought kept nagging at the back of his head, and now it was too strong to ignore.

Okay, Cas would still be in town and Dean knew where he was practically every day. But without the excuse of a class would Dean really be able to bring himself to come? What if Cas didn’t want to see him out of this context? Or what if he did come and Cas would eventually get sick of him? Or what if Cas didn’t and their relationship never evolved from the weird quasi-friendship they were currently at. Dean honestly couldn’t tell which reality he hated more.

So that meant he was left with two options: never speak to him again and prevent the night’s memories from being tainted by harsh reality, or risk it all by taking a chance on asking for more?

He hadn’t even realized Cas had stopped moving and was starring at him with concern written all over his face. “Dean, are you all right?” Cas squeezed his hand softly, maybe in assurance or just to get his attention. “You know I was just joking, right? You really are amazing”

Dean had made up his mind.

He took Cas’s hands in his own. “Uh, Cas. I know this may be a bit forward,” he began, but it was starting to get noisy. The new upbeat song was blasting through the speakers next to them. A crowd of cheers rang out from the other side of the reception. A howling fire siren echoed in the distance. “But I really like being with you.” Cas had gone still in his hands. He wasn’t even looking at Dean, but instead focusing out somewhere to the side. The siren was getting closer. “And maybe you might want to have dinner. With me.” Cas was frozen. His eyes weren’t even focused; it was almost like he wasn’t even there. Dean could feel his face growing hot. Cas clearly wasn’t having a positive reaction. “Or, ya know, not. That’s fine. I just-“

“Dean.” Cas whispered, almost like he was trying ground himself, or coming out of a fog. His breaths were short and shallow.

“Yeah?”

“I have to go.” Cas tried to push past him, but Dean caught his wrist.

“Cas-“

“I need to go!” Cas pulled away and ran into the opposite direction, somewhere off towards the gardens on the far side of the venue. It took Dean a moment to recover from the shock of Cas’s reaction before he ran after him. He found Cas tucked away in a small corner behind a pine tree. He was on the ground, his knees curled up to his chest and hyperventilating.

“Cas…?”

He didn’t answer. Dean wasn’t even sure Cas could hear him. He didn’t know what to do. Was it better to let him be? Hug him? Leave? In the end all he could think to do was sit next to Cas and murmur apologies and repeat to him that he was going to be all right. After a while Cas’s breathing finally calmed down. One of his hands unclenched enough for Dean to see a bottle of pills. Xanax, maybe. It was a few minutes more before he could speak, and at that point silent tears were streaming down his red cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered.

Dean shook his head. Cas really had nothing to apologize for. “Are you okay?”

“Better.”

They sat in silence. Behind them the reception was still kicking on. The music, now soft due to the distance, played in the background and the lights from the venue created a soft glow to illuminate the dark.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean asked cautiously.

“I didn’t run because of you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cas answered. Dean would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered.

Cas sighed. “I like you, Dean, but I’m no good.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All of this. I-“ Something must have caught in the back of Cas’s throat.

“Hey,” Dean breathed. He took a chance on hold Cas’s hand. Cas pulled his away. “It’s okay.”

“I get like this at times,” he said quietly. “I can’t ignore sirens or watch fireworks. I become anxious by construction noise. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken, Cas.”

A shaky laugh escaped his lips. “You may need to inform the army of that.”

Dean was completely lost, but he remained quiet. He didn’t want to push Cas any farther.

“I was in the army,” he eventually muttered, so low Dean almost didn’t hear him. “My family wasn’t always happy with my dancing career. My uncle, especially, pushed me into going to WestPoint, and then it was an easy jump into the military. I did two tours before I couldn’t take any more.” Dean could see Cas digging his nails into his palms. Without thinking, He held onto Cas’s hands just so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. Cas, thankfully, didn’t reject him. “I still get nightmares about the bombs and raid sirens and constant fear of attack.” His breath was getting shallow again.

“Do you want a hug?” Dean asked, completely lost on how to help. Cas nodded, and Dean wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He just prayed this was doing some good.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m not good enough for you.”

“Cas, that’s ridiculous.”

“Every time I get close to someone they always end up resenting me eventually. I don’t want that to happen with you. I care about you too much for that.”

Dean bit his lip. “I that why you tried to ditch the wedding?” Cas stilled beneath him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“I figured I should cut my losses before I got to far.” He tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a sigh. “But the idea of seeing you one last time was too tempting. I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a long time, just letting the reception’s music float over them as Cas got his breathing back to a steady rhythm. Even then, neither wanted to move.

“Well,” Dean finally broke the silence “I don’t know much about PTSD, but I could definitely look some things up. I live in a quiet neighborhood where there isn’t usually any construction or emergencies. I have an extra bedroom that you could use as a place for yourself if you need to get away. I don’t know about the fireworks, especially around forth of July, but we can absolutely do whatever you need-“

“What are you talking about?” Cas asked.

Dean twisted himself to meet Cas’s gaze. “I don’t care that you think you’re broken, cause I don’t believe it. I still like you. A lot. And I want to make this work.”

“You’re going to get tired of this.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. And shouldn’t I make that decision for myself?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t want to get hurt, Dean.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you.” That finally got some sort of smile out of Cas, and Dean found himself mirroring it. “For instance, would you mind if I kissed you?”

The question hung in the air between them, until Cas finally answered, “Yes.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Christmas had, thankfully, been calm that year. After all the excitement of planning Jess and Sam’s wedding, all they really needed was a small, relaxed dinner of the three of them. Well, them, and Dean’s new boyfriend.

Said boyfriend was currently curled up on his couch, tucked into Dean’s side, as the group swapped Christmas disaster stories. Dean and Sam retold the time their dad had gotten them a wreath made from old beer cans, and Jess recounted the time her sister decided just to giftwrap Jess’s own jeans. Cas won with his story of his brother seemingly getting him tickets to the New York City Ballet, only to discover at the door they were counterfeit. Everyone was howling with laughter, warm from the fire in the hearth and slightly tipsy from Sam’s over spiked eggnog.

Dean was honestly relieved that his family was so welcoming and open to Cas. Yeah, they all knew each other, but that was in a completely different context. Things could get weird quickly. But Cas had melded into their little family perfectly.

Eventually Sam and Jess decided to call it a night and headed home. It was getting late, and Cas had even suggested turning in to bed themselves, but Dean had other ideas. He went over to the record player and turned on one of his favorite Christmas albums. As the first notes of _I’ll Be Home For Christmas_ softly started to play through the speakers, Dean held his hand out to Cas.

“May I have this dance?”

Cas rolled his eyes, but his beaming smile gave him away. “Dean Winchester, you are an unbelievable sap.” Cas did still rise from the couch and accept Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, but I’m your sap.”

Their dance wasn’t fancy, or even correct on a technical level. It was just them, chest to chest with Cas’s head on Dean’s shoulder, swaying back and forth as the music played on. But for Dean it was absolutely perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

"Merry Christmas, Dean.”

 

 


End file.
